War Crimes
by Brindabella
Summary: Amy and Evan entered Homicide with high hopes and big dreams. Instead they discover they have walked into a world of corruption, paying off, keeping quiet and one very dirty little religion. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Date began: November 30, 2006

Date finished:

Dedication: For

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to the writer. They remain property of Channel 7 and Southern Star.

Song credits: Chantelle Barry, Hinder, Ben Folds, Joshua Kadison

Grab: Amy and Evan entered Homicide with high hopes and big dreams. Instead they discover they have walked into a world of corruption, paying off, keeping quiet and one very dirty little religion. They suddenly find themselves bought together through the steadfast commitment they both hold for a clean police force.

**War Crimes**

He faced her with a pained expression. "This isn't how I imagined us to be," he said quietly. He tore his eyes away from her for a moment and looked down at the couch, as if contemplating whether or not to sit down. But they couldn't fight if he was sitting down, so he remained standing in front of her.

She looked back at him with a similar expression. Something had changed. They weren't the same couple they were a year ago. She pondered in her head what it was that had taken away the feverish night time moments they used to share when they had first gotten together. Had they simply outgrown each other, after just a year? A year ago she hadn't thought that would ever be possible – they hadn't been able to get enough of each other, or live a day without the other, and they had promised they would always be faithful to one another. But this wasn't even about being faithful. It was something else that she just couldn't put her finger on.

And Alex was now only confirming it for her. In the past couple of weeks they had begun fighting, pulling out the little nagging things about each other that they used to not be bothered by. She had yelled at him for the first time during one of those fights and afterwards she couldn't believe she had done such a thing. Amy didn't know what had gotten into her, but whatever it was, it had got into Alex too and they fought constantly. Had the first year been too intense, and now they were burnt out?

"It's not how I imagined it either," Amy whispered in reply, a tear threatening to spill down her cheek. She fought hard to keep it back. Now was not the time to fall apart.

Alex finally plonked himself down onto the couch when he realised this wasn't just another fight. It was the end. The end of him and Amy. He ran his hands through his hair, tired. How could they love each other so much but fight so often? "I didn't think it'd be this hard," he sighed, looking up at her as she sat down beside him. "I didn't think it'd be like this. I didn't think _we'd_ be like this."

Amy didn't have an answer for a moment. The same thoughts were running through her head as she finally came up with a realisation – one that hurt to say out loud, because she wondered what life would be like without him. "Maybe we're not meant for each other after all," she whispered. It was all it took for the room to become claustrophobic like, and it made them shift awkwardly away from each other before Alex got up and walked out of the room entirely. Before he exited, he kissed her delicately on the forehead for the last time as her face crumpled in front of him.

It's not giving up

It's just letting go

The next morning Amy sat in her office, all her colleagues out of view, called the assistant commissioner and accepted the job at Homicide that had been patiently waiting in the wings for her for the past three years.

She left just two weeks later, leaving everything she had worked so passionately for in this little country town behind. But most of all, she was leaving Alex behind, and everything they had shared, good and bad. Despite their painful split, they had shared a lot, and it was almost like a security blanket for Amy – one she clung to because she felt like it protected her.

Policing was different in the country, and it had been a nice pleasant change when she had made the move. Things went at a slower pace, but the challenge was still there, and it had made her genuinely fall in love with the way things were done in Mt Thomas. It was a change from the ugliness of the city.

But now circumstances had changed. She and Alex couldn't even work together, and she felt that nothing could resolve the awkward tension that bubbled inexstricably between them but one of them relocating. Amy knew that nothing would move Alex from his position of sergeant – a position he had earnt, fought for, and grown to love, and so it was up to her. She still wanted to be fair, despite the way in which they had parted. It was just too difficult to work around him day after day when they used to get along so famously. And so Amy finally accepted the job at Homicide.

Homicide had been after Amy Fox for years now, and the ways in which they tried to poach her were really flattering for the female detective. Someone must've noticed her back when she was in the city, she thought to herself. And they only confirmed this for her when they continued to try and have her join them in the city. City offices always had places for talented, hard working young detectives, and that was exactly what Amy was, and so they wanted her.

When she phoned early on that Monday morning, and asked to speak to the assistant commissioner, who had acted as her mentor during her years of detective training, a buzz went round the 5th floor of Homicide. They knew they had nabbed her.

Paperwork was fast tracked and Amy was ushered into her new office as soon as possible. She dragged her cardboard box through the maze of desks that littered the main area of the fifth floor and approached her office just a little bit apprehensive. Upset still at leaving her friends behind in the country, she heaved the heavy box onto the laminate desk with a sigh. She would miss the country. But she didn't have a choice.


	2. Chapter 2

"Detective Fox?" a head poked into her office, lit by the setting sunlight that streamed through the expanse of windows her office contained. She had met a lot of people just in her first few minutes of entering the building, but this was yet someone else she didn't know. But the detectives smile put her at ease as she turned around at the sound of her name.

"Yep?" she asked, eyebrows raised, trying to look unthreatening and friendly. She wanted to fit in here, if nothing else.

"We're putting on welcome drinks for you detective," the guy smiled. He stepped into the office and over to her, shoving the box further over onto the desk. "Come on," he urged. "You can unpack tomorrow."

He was so charming and persuasive that she left the box behind.

Later they entered the Latin Quarter, apparently the watering hole for all Melbourne d's. It was crowded and noisy, but the table that the Homicide crew sat at was the biggest and most exclusive table of them all, off to the side and almost away from view of the other punters. Ned, who had poked his head inside Amy's door just an hour earlier, led her over to this table, as if showing off the new first place getter. There she met and shook hands with not just those from Homicide, but also Armed Offenders, Rape Squad, Arson and Drug Squad.

Although the introductions left her feeling a little overwhelmed, she took particular note of every face she saw, trying to get back into the city method of working with large groups, rather than small like they did back in Mt Thomas. She was met with some friendly faces, and some drawn ones. Some regarded her with weary eyes, and others seemed enthusiastic at a new member added to the bursting team.

They all chattered the evening away, but the conversations didn't often include Amy. There was the usual 'So where were you stationed last?' and 'Do you know so and so?' but otherwise she was skillfully excluded from most conversations. She thought little of it though, putting it down to being the new kid on the block. She certainly felt out of her depth, and as she tried to listen in on what they talked about she realised she didn't have anything to contribute anyway. She was going to have to get back into the mode of thinking faster and talking faster now that she was back on bitumen roads.

She sat back and watched as they talked amongst themselves. Drinks flooded the table, constantly bought over - even if they weren't ordered - by the publican and assorted attractive, skinny young barmaids with blank faces. These glasses and bottles that packed the coppers table expertly hid the way the swarm of detectives seemed to speak behind their hands or with bowed heads. It was something Amy, and her first day jitters, failed to notice.


	3. Chapter 3

Amy entered her flat a little after ten, picking her way through the mass of boxes that seemed to crowd every available space on the floor. She stepped over them all though and headed directly to bed, pulling her doona over herself on the unsheeted bed. She was practically asleep before her head hit the pillow. But before her eyes succumbed to sleep she looked around her new place of residence. It was dingy and old, and on the very bottom floor, which meant she could hear every footstep of the other residents as they went up and down the stairwells at all times of the night. She sighed as she folded her hands under her pillow. She was definitely back in the big smoke.

Amy wrenched at the drawer. She might've had a nice office, but her desk was a shit heap, complete with drawers that didn't open. She set her feet firmly and gave a final yank and it finally gave in and opened. She shoved her files inside and went about organising the rest of her desk as the office began to fill up and desks began to have occupants. They didn't arrive with any gusto however, instead sauntering in with takeaway coffees or Cokes in their hands, Herald Suns and Ages under their arms and chatting amongst themselves, albeit in a lighter tone than she had encountered the night before.

By 8am the place was what Amy assumed was its usual bustling self. Phones rang, keyboards were punched, papers were shuffled and doors were constantly opened and closed. It was a busy place, and Amy felt grateful that she had an office of her own, away from all the action. The sanctuary like feeling lasted until just 8:30am though, when Amy was snapped out of her reverie when a suited up detective, one of many faces that she vaguely remembered from the Latin Quarter, burst into her office, seemingly in a great hurry.

"Your first gig," he said, staring straight at her. "You ready?" he raised his eyebrows at her, as if expecting her to faulter.

She took a quick deep breath in, grabbed her folder and jacket and was at his side in a flash. "Yep," she answered confidently, determined to prove her worth. He was obviously so high up in the ranks that she didn't warrant an introduction, so she simply went along, without knowing his name or where they were going. She wanted so badly to impress and fit in.

It wasn't until they got into the car that he spoke. "Senior Detective Barron Lloyd," he stated, turning to face her in the front seat and extending a hand. He was charming and handsome, she had to admit. Seemed like all the guys at Homicide were charming and handsome. But Barron's hand looked like the type of hand that had never done any hard work, and Amy wondered for a moment if Barron Lloyd was one of those cops who whinged and whined about the state of everything, but never had a go when it counted. She pushed this thought to the back of her mind though, determined not to make judgements about people she hardly knew.

"Amy Fox," she replied back with a smile whilst shaking his hand firmly.

Suddenly every little thing she did seemed important to establish herself in this new job. She shook Barron Lloyd's hand firmly because she didn't want him to think she was weak, physically or otherwise. She sat up straight in her seat, her eyes focused and ready so that she seemed credible and on the ball and she studied her folder critically even though it had nothing but old notes from Mt Thomas in it, none of which related to anything in Melbourne – but it made her look like a real detective. Because around these Homicide blokes sometimes she just didn't feel like a real detective.

"You good at keeping your head down Amy Fox?" he goaded her, a cocky smile on his face, that charming exterior wearing off already with her.

"Excuse me?" she looked at him with a sharp turn of her head. Taken aback, she waited for an answer, but he just smiled in return and revved up the car before zooming out of the carpark. What was this?

Amy sat silently as they drove trying not to think of what a loser this guy seemed to be. But she needed to know where they were going and what they were doing, so she screwed up some courage and spoke up. "So what's this job?" she asked, trying to be heard over the droll of the police radio.

"Armed rob Illawara Street," it was all he would surrender and she figured that was going to have to satisfy her. But an armed rob? Why were they just cruising through the streets then? Even in Mt Thomas an armed rob merited more than 60 k's an hour. But Barron just drove leisurely along, not at all in a hurry to get to the scene.

When they at last got there, some 10 minutes later, Barron hauled himself out of the car like he was policeman of the year, all attitude and what he thought was suave. They approached the dry cleaners on busy Illawara Street, and were confronted with the distraught owners.

Amy prepared herself to speak, but as she took a breath in to begin, Barron stepped in front of her, ushering the man and woman inside where he spoke to them privately, lacing his charm into the conversation expertly. Disgruntled, Amy watched from afar, and noticed how Barron didn't take any notes and didn't seem too concerned that the owners had just lost the previous days takings. He was out of there in less than five minutes. As he stepped back onto the footpath he looked at Amy. "Is this how you guys in the country do your job is it? Standing out on the footpath?" he raised his eyebrows at her, and she again got a taste of his superiority complex.

It was time to bite back. "Well I didn't have a chance to have a go did I?" she replied, turning on her heal and walking back to the car. This wasn't the method of operation Amy was used to. She worked in pairs or as part of a team, and two heads were always better than one. Not so in Melbourne though.

As she climbed back into the passenger seat she saw Barron's expression and saw how he couldn't have even cared. This was obviously his job, not hers, and he didn't care if she felt excluded. They drove in silence, only this time Barron did speed. Still pissed off, Amy didn't say anything, just waited for them to arrive at wherever they were going.

Amy looked out the window as she drove, trying not to imagine how things'd got done when she and Jonesy worked as a team, or worse, she and Alex. They would always discuss whatever the case was as they drove, sharing opinions, thoughts, concerns. It always seemed to help to have everything out in the open. They didn't seem to do it that way here. Maybe she had been away from the city too long. Maybe she'd forgotten how things got done here.

She watched the scenery go by as they drove out of the city and into the suburbs. The stony silence still sat between the two cops as Barron drove, and it was so intense and ugly that Amy was relieved when Barron pulled up outside a house in a suburb Amy didn't know and stopped with a squeal of the tires. Barron jumped out and charged up the walk without a second glance back at Amy to see if she was following. Sighing, Amy decided she'd better if she wanted to feel like she was a cop at all, and got out and followed at a slower pace after making sure the doors to the car were locked. The neighbourhood did not look friendly.

Barron was already at the front door of the housing commission house. It was one of those houses the government had built during a boom in the seventies and there were duplicates of it everywhere throughout Victoria – 3 bedroom, 1 bathroom shacks on small blocks. Average sized front yards, driveway along the side of the house, steps up to the front door. It was run down and old, being over 30 and all that, and Barron belted so hard on the door that Amy thought he might just knock it off its rusty hinges.

"Open up Dylan!!" he yelled viciously, not at all in the mood to wait. Just two seconds passed before Barron reared back his leg and kicked the door down in one swift movement, not getting a speck of dirt on his shiny shoes and spotless suit.

Again, not waiting for Amy, he barreled inside. As Amy walked up the footpath that lead to the front door she heard shouting begin, and it made her run. Barron was going for broke. She sprang up the steps and through the doorway, gingerly picking her way over the now splintered, broken wooden door. She was confronted with Barron in the front hall of the aging house. He had who she assumed was Dylan, up against the wall by the kitchen door. Dylan, with just boardshorts on and a baseball cap was swearing on his mothers grave that he didn't do the drycleaners robbery, and from the doorway of the kitchen an attractive blonde girl no older than 21 protested his innocence even louder than her boyfriend. She screamed and yelled and as Amy stepped into the house she took a leap towards Barron and attempted to pull him away from Dylan, or at least unlock the pressure on the poor guys neck.

It wasn't until the girl tried to pull Barron away that Amy realized how strong a grip he had on the Dylan. But Barron didn't seem to notice the way Dylan's eyes were beginning to bulge the longer he was trapped against the wall.

No matter how hard she wanted to fit in in the city, Amy wasn't going to stand by and watch a colleague strangle a suspect before it was even 10am. She too lunged at Barron and yanked him away from Dylan, and Barron finally loosed his grip, allowing Dylan to slip away and stumble into the kitchen where he was consoled by the girl. As he gasped for breath, one hand on the kitchen table, Barron turned and gave Amy a death stare so icy that she shuddered inside.

"He fucking did this," he whispered harshly, his blood boiling from his vengeful anger towards Dylan. Amy's brain worked frantically, trying to work out how the entire incident had even eventuated. She obviously didn't know the full story, and it seriously irked her.

"How do you even know?" she whispered back just as harshly, not speaking loud enough for Dylan and the girl to hear. "You take your time driving to the scene and then you break the speed limit getting here? Where the hell is your logic?" she looked at him, her questions burning furiously inside her.

But Barron just shrugged her and her questions off and walked into the kitchen with purpose in his step, muttering as he went. "He did it," he muttered again under his breath as he walked away from her. Amy shook her head and made her way back out the front door, not willing to be part of whatever crusade Barron had against this Dylan character. She made her way back out to the car, and just like at Illawara Street, waited in the passenger seat until he decided to come back and join her.

She was waiting more than ten minutes. When Barron finally stormed back out of the house, a frown creasing his forehead and his jacket flying out behind him, he had almost reached the car when the blonde girl ran out after him and they began talking in earnest. To hurry Barron up, or at least give him the impression she wanted to get going, she pulled at the doors handle and got out of her seat, leaning on the open door as she stood and waited for him to come around to the drivers side.

With the click of the door opening Barron turned around and gave her a fleeting glance, as if to check she wasn't too close. She was, but he turned back around and continued his whispered conversation with the girl anyway. Amy watched as they spoke with their heads close together. Straining her ears, Amy tried not to be too obvious as she casually leaned forward in an effort to hear what they were discussing. It didn't seem Barron was the type to work with a partner…or at least not a female partner from the sticks, and share info, so she was going to have to find out whatever she could through her own steem.

"…how can it not be enough?" the blonde whispered harshly, her face almost scared at the realization that 'it' wasn't enough. Amy cocked her head, curious now more than ever.

"Well you've just gotta decide if he's worth the money haven't you?" Barron whispered in reply, raising his eyebrows at her the same way he had Amy earlier that morning, expecting her to cave in to his strength.

The blonde began to look anxious. She wringed her hands and looked back into his eyes after studying her feet for a second. "Another $500?" she asked.

"That oughta do it," he grinned before giving her a soft play punch that grazed her cheek lightly. "I'll be back sweetheart." And with that he spun on his heal and headed back to the car. Amy would've shuddered at his slimy-ness if she hadn't have been shocked to her core. Had Barron Lloyd just taken a bribe? She got back into her seat, stunned.


	4. Chapter 4

As Barron revved up the car again and pulled back onto the street, Amy tried not to let the shock show in her face. Who was she working with? Had she really heard what she thought she'd heard? Had he really broken the number one rule of policing? She couldn't even speak as a new fear trundled through her viens. Suddenly she didn't even want to be in the car with him, because she knew she had heard right.

Later they returned to the Homicide building and went their separate ways. As Amy walked down the hall towards her office, she saw Barron and the assistant commissioner standing side by side, leaning against the wall talking. She increased her pace as she approached the two of them but couldn't help but hear them as she passed.

"…Nah it's not Dylan McMahon. I know that for sure…" Barron's words were so unbelievably laced with lies that Amy held her breath as she walked past, and she didn't let it out until she was safe in her office with the door closed. She was right about Barron and his ability to flick personalities. He had been so sure – so fucking sure in fact, as he had put it – that Dylan had done the robbery in Illawara Street, but now was telling his superior that it wasn't him. She hadn't even been at Homicide for five minutes and already she felt like maybe she'd made the wrong decision.

After her morning excursion, the day seemed to pass in a blur. She spent much of it organizing her desk, sussing out the coffee facilities and trying to avoid Barron. This wasn't hard, but when Ned again dragged her down to the Latin Quarter after the doors of Homicide closed for the night, Barron was of course sitting at the table Amy had begun to think of as the Melbourne table. As she and Ned approached, Ned seeming to hover closer than the previous night, Barron looked up and gave Amy another death stare. It wasn't as intense as it had been that morning, because something in his face looked a little worried. Maybe she had overheard too much?

"Come on Amy, I'll buy you a drink," Ned offered, his hand on her back, guiding her towards the bar. Out of habit, she shrugged off his hand and tore her eyes away from Barron, before giving in and allowing Ned to buy her a glass of wine. She was wary though, wondering if she should let anyone buy her anything in this place – what if one day they tried to buy her silence, the way the girlfriend had bought Barron's?

Leading her back to the throng of detectives as they grasped their drinks, Ned sat Amy down at a tiny little two seater table by the door, just metres away from the Melbourne table. It made her realise for the first time that maybe there was something about Ned…or something about her? He was being nicer tonight than just taking the one night role of introducing around the new girl. She looked at him over her wine glass as she took a sip. Wearing a warm and good looking smile, he grinned back at her, seeming intent to start a conversation with her.

Surprising herself, they talked easily for a solid half an hour. Charming as always, he bought all her drinks that night, and even stood up to meet her when she excused herself to go to the bathroom. Smiling shyly, she walked out of the bar and into the short hallway that lead to the bathrooms of the Latin Quarter.

Approaching, she walked in a little bit of a daze as she thought how charismatic Ned was, and how attractive she seemed to find that. She was shaken out of her reverie as she reached the bathroom door though, as in a split second, out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the blonde girlfriend slipped a wad of bills into Barron's hands as they stood at the end of the hallway, almost completely shrouded in darkness. As the girlfriend went to turn away, Barron tugged on her arm brutally and pulled her in close to him. She winced, her face crumpled, but listened as Barron whispered in her ear before walking away. They obviously shared a violent relationship, judging by the way Barron grabbed her. Amy didn't waste a second in darting into the bathroom as Barron came walking back up the hallway.

Breathing heavily Amy stood with her back against the door. She felt so unprotected from the ways of these detectives here in Melbourne. There was no threat of guns or knives, but it seemed so much unseen threats. So many whispered conversations. So many dark dealings. Barron had just confirmed for her what she had feared. She tried to steady her breathing as she entered a stall and moments later went back out to join Ned.

He was standing in the foyer waiting for her, his hands in his pockets, leaning casually up against the wall speaking with Barron, an uneasy look on his face. As she entered, the two men stood laughing together, slapping each other on the shoulders as they shared a private joke that Barron seemed to find a lot more funny than Ned did. With the approach of Amy, Barron stopped a little short and suddenly became the opposite of what she seen him be in the last 24 hours towards her. "Amy!" he bellowed, allowing the thick smell of his vodka breath to come into contact with the air in the foyer. "We were just talking about you!"

She couldn't believe how he flicked so stealthily from personality to personality, even when he wasn't a bit smashed. One minute he was the crooked cop who took bribes and the next he was one of the most charming guys she'd ever met. It was probably what made it so easy for him to be crooked she guessed.

She just forced a smile and bid farewell to Barron as Ned led her out the front door and onto the busy street where his car was parked. "So where to Detective Fox?" Ned smiled as he opened the door for her. She appreciated the fact that he didn't have a hotted up car with mag wheels and a spoiler to match. So she got in and asked to be driven home, and he took her right to her door.

As she entered and Ned drove away into the still summer night, Amy walked dejectedly into her flat on the bottom floor of the building and walked down the hallway wearily. Suddenly she was questioning everything and second guessing what she had encountered. Maybe she was paranoid. Maybe she had taken everything out of context. Maybe she had been away from the city for too long.

She sighed as she sat down on her bed. Rubbing her temples she reached for the phone on her bedside and out of pure habit, she punched Alex's number into it without even looking at the keypad. Her eyes closed, she waited for him to pick up the phone. It rang and rang and Amy sighed when she heard Alex's answering machine message. The lump rose in her throat as she heard his familiar voice. "Hey guys. You've reached Alex. I'm not here right now, so leave me a message and if you're lucky I'll get back to you."

Honey why you calling me so late

It's kinda hard to talk right now

His message made her laugh as she tried to not let how much she missed him show in her voice. It didn't work. "Alex…" suddenly she didn't know what to say. She was essentially talking to an answering machine. What could she say? "Just calling because…" she hesitated. Why was she calling? "Just calling." She shrugged her shoulders at nothing, embarrassed at her effort.

It's really good to hear your voice saying my name

She paused, not wanting to hang up straight away, even though she knew the answering machine would time out at any second. She decided to make the call worth her trouble at least. Words tumbled out of her mouth as she went to hang up. "I miss you," she whispered wistfully into the mouthpiece. There was so much more she wanted to say. To ask him questions. How had he been? What had he been doing? Had he been thinking of her? Did he miss her? Had she made the right decision moving to Melbourne? She wanted his reassurance, but that night, she wasn't going to get it. She fell asleep with a frown creasing her features.

Honey why you crying is everything okay


	5. Chapter 5

The next day was a bit more tolerable. She didn't see Barron until she was just about to knock off. Seated in her office, she worked hard on a report for her new boss, outlining her achievements in the country for the Victoria Police's files. As she was finishing up the telephone on her desk rang loudly and she rushed to turn down the volume on the side. She stared at it alarmed, and realized it was the first call she had received in her new position.

It was Jonesy. She smiled. Her smile only widened when he told her he'd secured a position at Homicide too. She knew he'd wanted it and she had encouraged him to go for it.

"Really Jonesy?" She was genuinely happy for him and could hear the elation in his voice.

"I'm heading down on Friday night," he replied, sounding excited. "Starting Monday!"

Thank God, Amy thought to herself. Someone she knew. Someone she could trust. Someone who wouldn't think she was being paranoid.

"But Amy?" he suddenly sounded embarrassed.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"I can't move in til Monday…" he sounded apprehensive. "Can I crash on your couch until then?" He seemed embarrassed to have to ask.

Amy shook her head, chuckling at his embarrassment. "Of course you can loser."

By Thursday Amy was hanging out for Evan to arrive – he felt like a slice of normalcy at last, and she longed for that in this scary job. After she had hung up with Evan, Ned had poked his head into her office and invited her out to the Latin Quarter again, and even though she didn't seem to have as much affection for the place as the other cops here did, she said yes anyway, and they sat in a quiet corner again, devouring a whole bottle of wine between them.

It felt good to have a free flowing conversation with Ned and she wondered why she seemed to so easily say yes whenever he offered her some company after work or a lift home. Over their wine glasses they stared at each other for a moment and she realized why. With his warm smile and eyes that danced whenever he spoke, he wasn't like the other guys she had met in the Melbourne office since she'd arrived. Most of them were hard noised, cursing chain smokers who drank too much and seemed to know a lot of people, good and bad. But Ned wasn't like that, and she admired the way he stood apart from the rest of the group. She decided it couldn't hurt to get to know him.

"So how long have you been here Ned?" she began, running her finger around the rim of her glass.

He thought for a moment before answering, as if thinking back and counting the days. "About three years," he answered, nodding as the figure came to him. "I transferred from uniform in St Kilda."

"Oh right," she replied, taking another sip of her wine. She couldn't keep her mouth shut now that she'd started. "Was Barron here when you first came?" she whispered, leaning in closer.

"Barron?" he asked, suddenly not as forthcoming. He fiddled with his glass mercilessly and avoided eye contact with her for several unnerving moments. He just shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Finally he looked up and stared her straight in the eye. "Don't get too close to Barron ok Amy?" he seemed so intent on protecting her and she wondered if this was advice worth really remembering.

She just nodded in reply, getting his drift immediately. "I got the feeling I shouldn't," she whispered, cautious that no one else but Ned could hear her. She frowned across the table at him. "I think I saw him take a bribe the other day."

At this admission Amy had expected him to gasp, or frown, or fall off his chair, or **something**, but Ned didn't even flinch. "Of course you did," he assured her. "Barron Lloyd has taken more bribes than you've had hot dinners Amy." He looked at her like she had just told him the sky was purple.

Amy was aghast, and immediately embarrassed that she was so out of the loop that she hadn't expected such a practice when she had begun at Homicide. Of course they were crooked, she reasoned. This was the city. But she didn't expect to be working among the corrupt elite. Was Roger Rogerson hiding around the next corner too? Amy just nodded her head at Ned, stunned that she was working in such an environment. "You're not corrupt are you?" she asked, still whispering across the table to him. She knew it was a stupid question as soon as it left her mouth – even if he was would he tell her? Would anybody? Anyone smart enough would always protest their innocence, and coppers could be pretty darn smart.

Ned looked offended and she immediately regretted what she had asked, but suddenly she had got that feeling back again that she had had the night she had seen Barron and the girlfriend in the hallway. Wielding no control over it, the questions kept popping back into her head. She questioned everything she saw, and everything she said to others for fear of what they might do with her information. She questioned every decision she made and every word others said. It made work invade normal life, instead of just being a job. She sighed. What had she got herself into?

Ned got over being offended quickly, understanding that Amy was new and didn't know any better. He could tell, just by the stunned look that shadowed her face, that she was embarrassed though at being so misinformed, and took it upon himself to change that.

"You need to know that Barron doesn't do things the way you country bumpkins do Amy," he smiled kindly at her as he mocked her teasingly. "Most of the coppers here don't." When Amy just nodded and leaned forward to hear more, he continued.

"The cops around here…" he began. "They'll do anything for a pinch. Anything. In some ways it's almost admirable," he shrugged, as if trying to justify their corrupt ways in his mind. "But then people get cocky, or on their bad side, or just plain unlucky, and things get heavy." He shook his head violently. "You don't wanna be around for that."

"Tell me about the people who pay him off," Amy whispered, eager for the juicy part of the story.

"There's not just one or two - it's like half a dozen," Ned explained. "He makes quite a lot of money from it you know. I mean, in the eighties it would be less than a hundred a week. But now…" he shook his head and gave a small smile, and Amy wondered if Ned had ever been tempted. "…now it's more like a couple of hundred a week."

"And it's to get rid of briefs, weapons, charges, stuff like that?" Amy asked.

"Yeah," Ned nodded, and Amy felt relieved that she knew at least something. "Gotta make sure it doesn't get to court. I've seen reports disappear before my very eyes."

"And you never…?" she had to ask again, just to be sure.

"Amy, my first station was St Kilda for Christ's sake. I saw what it was like there. I just want to help people. I'm not in it for myself." Amy nodded, satisfied at last. He didn't have to say it, she just knew. He wasn't bent.


	6. Chapter 6

As Amy lay in bed that night she thought of Alex. He had been playing constantly on her mind since she had left the message on his answering machine. The only time she hadn't thought of him was when she had been talking with Ned. She wasn't sure if this was because there was something about Ned that she really liked, or because she was so afraid of what kind of a copper Barron was, and just how close she had already become involved with him through that simple robbery. But Ned seemed to have an uncanny ability to calm her. He had told her secrets, secrets which could put both their careers and their lives in danger, but he had such a purity to him that just drew her in. Maybe they were the same kind of cops. It was a small comfort in the terrifying world of Homicide.

As they had left the Latin Quarter earlier that night, and walked out to Ned's car, Amy had spotted Barron talking on his mobile phone out in the front courtyard. They exchanged just a fleeting glance but the death stares he continued to give her still shook her insides. As she climbed into the passenger seat of Ned's car, she wondered if Ned could smell the fear that suffocated her senses. She felt riddled with the intensity of working in such close proximity of someone who was crooked. Perhaps that was why Ned was such a comfort. He seemed to protect her and care for her welfare the way Alex used to.

As they drove back to Amy's flat, Ned seemed intent on continuing Amy's Homicide crash course. "So who did he pin the drycleaners robbery on the other day?" Ned asked with a chuckle, as if he was just so used to occurrences like this and so accustomed to having to live with the way Barron and the like worked that he could do nothing but laugh about it anymore. Amy turned to face him as he drove, adjusting her seatbelt as she did so.

"I don't know details," Amy shrugged. "I was just dragged along for the ride. All I know is his name is Dylan McMahon." She surrendered the information, hoping that it would entice Ned to spill more juicy scandal.

It did. Ned nodded his head knowingly as he drove, still chuckling his desperate hopeless chuckle. "Ohhhh yep," he replied. "Dylan McMahon. One of the usuals. Barron's totally got the hots for his chick. Did you see her there too?"

"Blonde, beautiful, a lot to say?"

"That's the one. Laura Grimaldi," he nodded. "You'll see a lot of her. And not just with Dylan."

Amy caught on immediately, thankful she hadn't totally lost her touch. "She from your neck of the woods is she?" Amy asked knowingly, referring to his days on the streets of St Kilda, where the streetwalkers ruled the footpaths.

"Oh yeah," Ned confirmed as he pulled up to her flat smoothly. "She does business with a lot of the coppers around here. But none more than Barron."

"Why is that?" Amy felt embarrassed that she still needed to ask questions. If she were back in Mt Thomas, where she knew everyone on the books inside out and upside down, she never needed to ask questions. It was always others asking her for the answers to life mysteries. But not here.

Ned shrugged, suddenly seeming to tire of talking shop. "She's got a drug habit to feed, knows too many of the wrong people and has a boyfriend whose spent more time on the inside than he has on the outside." He looked at her as though he couldn't believe she hadn't already figured it out.

Amy nodded solemnly, trying not to let the revelations swish around in her head too much. Sometimes Melbourne and all its dark little secrets gave her headaches. Behind her eyes she ached, and all that could cease the throbbing was to close them. So she thanked Ned for dropping her home again and wondered inside to her little flat with its musty smell and tiny rooms. In a way though, she was almost grateful she lived on the first floor – it meant she didn't have to climb any stairs.

As she laid under the covers as the clock ticked towards midnight Amy kept her eyes closed, trying to get Alex off her mind. She wasn't sure which was worse. The thought of Barron doing shonky dealings for his own benefit or the thought of Alex getting her message and not calling back.

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you

Amy rolled over to face the opposite wall of her tiny bedroom and squeezed her eyes shut even more in a desperate bid to wipe Alex from her mind. But she couldn't. If he hadn't returned her call, she had to assume he didn't feel the same desperate longing for her that she did for him. He was over her already. He'd moved on. She was out of his life.


	7. Chapter 7

Friday dawned bright and cheery, but Amy's day didn't begin so pleasantly. She woke up late – no doubt due to a sleepless night tossing and turning over Alex - and bustled urgently around the flat getting dressed and ready for the day. When she finally dashed into the 5th floor of Homicide a little after nine, all heads turned towards her as she made her way into her office.

"Detective Fox?" a voice called out when she was just meters from her door. It was well-known and familiar and it put her at ease for a moment. She turned around with a smile on her face.

The assistant commissioner beckoned Amy into her office with a flurry of hand signals. Inviting her to sit down, Bronte James still had that executive, polished look about her – like she could do a million things at once, still have the kids fed by 6 _and_ have a clean house. Not to mention a high ranking position in the force, There had been so many things Amy had admired about Bronte when she had gone through the academy and then up through the ranks of the system, and it was nice to be working near such a good friend again. If she had any doubts, Amy always knew Bronte was one she could turn to and rely on, so she sat down breathing a heavy sigh that felt like it'd been held in for days.

"So…" she had the most welcoming vibe about her, with anyone she met. "Settling in Amy?" she asked. Bronte sat in the chair beside Amy instead of behind the big wooden desk that Amy noticed was a lot nicer than her own.

There was something about Bronte though that seemed to have changed and Amy noticed it the moment Bronte opened her mouth. She was still the same old Bronte – the reliable, friendly Bronte – but she had that same over the top-ness about her that the other people on the 5th floor seemed to have – with the exception of Ned. A kind of false caring attitude. It was as if Bronte had been with this crew too long, and didn't have the same mentor like quality for Amy as she used to.

So Amy lied and told her everything was going great, because the feeling she was getting from Bronte was something of a lie too, and she felt disappointed down in the pit of her stomach.

"You've met everyone have you?" she continued. Amy knew it was standard welcoming procedure to ask, and it was also standard answering procedure to lie through your teeth if you wanted to be taken seriously and not thought of as a straight laced wimp.

Bronte got up then and headed for the door to let Amy back into the noisy office. Once a chatterbox whom Amy could never get away from, Bronte shuttled her out of her office still bubbling about what a fantastic team everyone on the fifth floor was and how much she was going to love it there. Amy walked out clutching her files and briefcase in a stunned silence.

Melbourne was so different to Mt Thomas. Even the people were different. What had happened to the person who had got her through the academy? Who had encouraged her to become a d? Who had handed her her certificate and shook her hand that day more than a decade ago?

Had she been tempted too? The way Barron had? The way Ned had refused to be?

She waited for him on the front steps. He'd insisted on making his own way to Melbourne and to her place, and she hadn't argued. But now that she was waiting, she was champing at the bit to see him again.

Finally, a little after six that dirty familiar truck pulled up and still like a little kid in so many ways he bounded out and almost tripped on the curb as he went to retrieve his luggage from the boot. Amy chuckled to herself as she walked across the lawn to meet him.

"Hey stranger," she greeted him, resisting the temptation to throw her arms around his neck for the feel of something so homely again, after so long.

He dropped his bags at his feet and threw his arms around her though, giving her a tight squeeze and a peck on the cheek, seemingly ecstatic to see her. She chuckled again, loving the feeling of a little bit of Mt Thomas in her life again. "It's so good to see you Amy!" Evan exclaimed. He rolled his eyes and he went to pick up his bags again. "I thought I'd never get here!! The traffic was a nightmare!"

He chirped on and on all night long as they sat out on the rooftop garden of Amy's block of flats and drank coke and ate Shapes. It was all Amy had left in her pantry. She realised then that she had been so preoccupied with work ever since she'd arrived that she'd taken little time to look after herself. Evan was worried. But he could never say no to BBQ Shapes, and went to grab a handful more as the sun set over Melbourne.

"So Amy," he leaned forward and patted her on the leg. "Tell me about work! Is it fantastic?" He said it as if he thought she'd immediately say that yes, it was fantastic, but she didn't, and her moment of hesitation immediately caught his guard.

"Not as fantastic as I thought it'd be, to tell you the truth," Amy said quietly. She didn't want to dampen their night catching up, and felt guilty at bringing the mood down, but Evan wasn't deterred. She loved how he was always there for his friends.

You're my piece of mind

In this crazy world

"How do you mean?" Evan gently probed, scraping his chair quickly across the pavement to be closer to hers. He grabbed the box of Shapes and offered her some more, but she shook her head, refusing. Shrugging, he grabbed a hefty handful for himself and urged her to spill her guts.

Amy shrugged, not knowing where to even start. How could she tell him that the force she had worked so hard for most of her life was riddled with corruption? That the person who had once acted as her mentor and got her to where she was today had possibly been tempted by the other side? That she missed Mt Thomas more than she cared to admit, and wondered everyday if she had made the right decision in leaving?

"There's so much you're gonna learn Jonesy," she sighed. "It's tough."

Evan nodded his head solemnly in reply and she was grateful he'd stopped asking questions. With his silence came her verbal dirahheoa though and the next few hours flew by as she told him everything that had happened since she'd arrived and everyone she had met and everything they had said and done. By 10 o'clock, when it became too dark and too cold to sit out on the rooftop, they went inside and Jonesy was quiet as he tried to digest everything Amy had just told him.

As they bid goodnight to each other and she settled into her bed, while he tried to get comfortable on the couch, both seemed pleased to have each other in their presence. A weight had been hauled off Amy's delicate shoulders when she had told Evan everything she had encountered at Homicide, and it still also felt great to have an old friend so close by. Work couldn't be nearly as stressful now.

And, whether she liked to admit it or not, Evan was her link to her past – her past in Mt Thomas and the way she had lived happily there – and most of all her link to Alex, something that failed to come up in conversation on the roof top, because Amy pulled out every stop to make sure he wasn't bought up. It would've been too painful, even though having Evan sleeping on her couch was a cruel comfort. He was Alex's best mate, and that would now be where Amy's association with Alex begun and ended.


	8. Chapter 8

Evan spent the weekend hauling his stuff into Amy's tiny flat and making it only tinier with his boxes. Storage seemed out of the question as she bought the takeout on Saturday and Sunday night, realising he was too broke to shout her.

Amy didn't take him down to the Latin Quarter at all over the weekend, preferring the time away from the tense atmosphere inside there and the fearful feelings attached to the place for her now. They simply enjoyed catching up and reliving the good ol' days of the Lone Ranger and Tonto.

Late on Sunday night as Amy brushed her teeth and stared at herself blankly in the bathroom mirror, the unavoidable question popped out of Evan's mouth. He stood leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, picking at the peeling cream paint. "So you and Alex are finished hey?" he asked quietly staring at her in the mirror.

Amy had been just waiting for him to ask. She stopped brushing her molars mid stroke. Staring back into the mirror she looked fearfully at Evan behind her. Could he see how much she missed Alex? Was it that obvious? Or was it just obvious that she should move on too after they had fought and fought and convinced each other it wasn't going to work any longer?

"Yeah," Amy replied, rinsing her mouth out and avoiding looking into his eyes. "We're finished." Maybe it would just be easier if she admitted it to herself out loud?

Evan sensed her disappointment but couldn't leave the topic alone. "It must…hurt?" he didn't know what she felt, but could see something was wrong in her eyes.

She sighed and tried to keep her emotions in tact in front of her colleague. She shrugged, speaking just barely above a whisper. "It hurts that he's not here for breakfast every morning." She walked out of the bathroom, rubbing her face on the hand towel as she exited. Evan watched after her. If she missed him at breakfast, it must just be the tip of the iceberg, he thought to himself.

Evan sidled up to the basin to brush his teeth as well as she wandered away. As he squeezed some toothpaste onto his brush, he watched in the mirror as Amy opened her bedroom door and walked inside, her shoulders slumped, preparing herself for another night of tossing and turning over Alex and the relationship they no longer had. Evan stood quietly stunned, unable to brush his teeth. Never before had he seen her affected so greatly by something she tried to make sound so insignificant.

Monday morning dawned early for Amy and Jonesy as he insisted on getting into the office early so that Amy could show him around and she could tell him who to avoid and where not to go. After a moments deliberation Amy agreed this would be a good idea – then maybe Jonesy wouldn't get involved and put his career on the line like she unknowingly had.

They drove to the office in Evan's truck, which immediately looked out of place in the carpark amongst all the sleek new Holdens and Fords. Amy shrugged at the observation she made though – it wasn't like she wasn't already the odd one out. As they walked inside and took the lifts up to the fifth floor Amy sensed Evan's nervousness. Coupled with the jitters that seemed to follow her everywhere she went, they really didn't compliment each other that morning. As she stood in the lift beside Jonesy, trying to give him a reassuring smile that she knew inside was weak and unconvincing, she tried hard to shrug off her insecurities and just focus on her job. It was difficult though.

As they stepped out of the lift and into the office, still branded at the entrance with that ever faithful Victoria Police logo – the logo they were all supposed to live and die by – Amy scanned her eyes over the puzzle of desks and chairs. She was thankful that the place was relatively quiet that morning, apart from the few desk jockeys that sat typing quietly into their computers, steaming mugs of coffee beside them, bags under their eyes and bored, listless looks on their faces.

As they strode down the hall together, they tried their utmost to look confident and under control. Above all feelings one got when one walked into the fifth floor of Homicide was the feeling that you weren't good enough to work here. That you had to be strong. Determined. Unbreakable. Invincible. Some days Amy had trouble convincing herself she was all those things, and she knew, giving a side ways glance at Evan, that he was feeling his first dose of that insecure feeling at that moment too.

Before they were even half way to Amy's office, Bronte's door sprang open at the site of an unfamiliar face walking beside her newest detective. "Jones?" she called out as they passed her door. Amy scalded herself – of course the Boss's office should be the first place to take the new recruit. But something had wanted to deter Evan away from Bronte – deter him away because she was afraid maybe of what Bronte had become involved in as well. She just wanted to hide her former Mt Thomas buddy away in her office forever and solve crime their own way.

"Jones?" Bronte asked again, stepping out into the office. She extended a warm hand and Amy watched as they shook hands firmly, Evan so eager to make a good impression – just the way she had only weeks earlier. Bronte rushed into her introduction as she ushered them all down the hallway towards Amy's office. "Gotta fly today guys, sorry it's not much of a welcome Evan, but you'll be fine with Amy, I know you guys know each other." And with that she was away again, Evan's mouth open ready to reply, but not quite getting the chance.

Amy opened her office door and beckoned him inside. "Guess you're with me for now hey?" she smiled, trying silently to calm his nerves. They bounced off the walls in her office as soon as she shut the door, ensuring them some privacy.

Evan exhaled slowly and smoothed out the creases in his suit. "Yeah, I guess so." He flopped down into a chair dazed. "What an introduction," he whispered to himself. Amy heard and smiled secretly to herself as she lumped her briefcase onto her desk, not really eager to begin a new day, but wanting to be the crutch Jonesy used on his first official day in Melbourne. She would always be his leader, she knew, but as time progressed in Melbourne she couldn't help but think that maybe they would become equals. They were after all both new to the environment, and both from the sticks. Both so superior in the country but so unnoticed in the city.

By lunchtime they were out on the road with Ned leading the way in a sleek black unmarked car. They cruised the streets of Melbourne, Ned giving them a guided tour as he stopped every now and then to deliver summonses and pick up briefs and evidence for those high up in the service who couldn't be bothered getting out into the field and doing it themselves,

As they drove, Amy and Ned in the front seat and Jonesy in the back, the two new Melbourne recruits stared wide eyed at the passing scenery, enchanted by its looks yet at the same time disgusted. Driving through the 'dirty' area of Melbourne, girls leant against lamp posts and people entered dodgy looking establishments, their eyes always searching to make sure they weren't being watched. Inconspicuious in an unmarked car, Amy could see it all and she breathed it in like it was her orientation day.

Pulling up outside a local courthouse that sat hidden behind a suburban station, Ned jumped out and power walked inside, promising to be back in moments. Amy smiled after him. Ned got things done. He wasn't all talk so it seemed some of the Melbourne blokes were. She loved that about him.

Amy and Jonesy sat back in their seats still staring out the windows of the sedan. It seemed brazen and foolish that the pros and dealers would be wondering the streets around this area, with a police station and a courthouse in such close proximity, but it clicked in Amy's head immediately that these people lived on the edge. The fringe of society still walked with the rich elite of Melbourne. She added it to her mental list of things to always remember.

Away in her thoughts, Amy jumped when someone came up to her open passenger window and spoke. It was Laura Grimaldi. She leant against the car, one hand on the roof and one with a cigarette and she leant down into Amy's window, engulfing her face with smoke. Amy studied her seriously for a few moments as the smoke cleared and almost jumped again when the tone of voice that came out of Laura's mouth was so different from what she remembered from their first brief meeting.

"Can I help you?" Amy asked, annoyed that Laura was bothering them.

"Is Barron here?" she asked, taking a drag on her cigarette and further blowing smoke into the interior of the car. Amy heard Jonesy lean forward in his seat behind her, immediately switched on to the fact that this was the girl she had told him about on the rooftop.

"I'm sorry. He's not." Amy was being blunt and to the point, all in an effort to drive Laura away from them so they could get on with their cruising.

"Ned?" she asked, a little nicer this time. Her face softened, and she threw her cigarette away over her shoulder, only hesitating for a minute before doing it, as if she thought that maybe they would book her for littering. She leant into the window more and Amy reared back, away from her.

"I'm sorry, he's not…" Amy was cut off when Ned's door opened beside her and he threw his files over the headrest and onto the backseat beside Evan.

"Laura." He sounded annoyed already. "What is it?" Amy and Jonesy could hear Ned lean his elbows on the roof and speak over it towards Laura. She in turn leant her elbows on the roof and spoke over it to him, her tiny mid section now right up against Amy's door. Amy looked away and strained her ears to hear their conversation.

"…pissed off that Dylan's still got his shit and hasn't sold it yet…" Laura's voice sailed through the afternoon air and into the seats where Amy and Jonesy sat, eager as ever for juicy gossip, despite the consequences.

"Don't talk to me about it Laura, for fucks sake," Ned's cursing shocked Amy for a moment until she mentally reminded herself that this was police work in the raw. The language of the street had to be used, or they would never listen.

Ned launched himself back into the car in an effort to make Laura go away, back to, presumably, the dark alleys and dimly lit corners that she worked from. Ned revved the engine and drove them away from the scene, leaving Laura standing behind, a sorry sight if ever Amy saw one. She almost felt sorry for the girl.

"Bloody Laura," Ned muttered under his breath as they drove back towards base. He seemed so mad that Amy didn't ask questions, and neither did Evan, but it soon turned out that they didn't have to when Ned continued muttering.

"Wanna know the real side of this job?" he grunted, his usual pleasant mood seeming to have been erased just by the appearance of Laura at the courthouse. He wouldn't look at either of them as he drove and spoke through gritted teeth. "The real side is that cops here buy the stuff and guys like Dylan sell it. Girls like Laura pay off the cops when guys like Dylan do something stupid, or are just unlucky, or in the bad books of someone like Barron Lloyd."

He pulled into the driveway of their building and as he parked and undid his seatbelt he continued, Amy and Evan listening with intent. "But none of them are 100 with you." Ned shook his head as he walked across the carpark. "Barron doesn't know Laura and Dylan keep a bit for themselves, happy to give up the cash they could earn for a weeks worth of hits. Dylan doesn't know Barron is after Laura…big time. Laura doesn't realise how pissed off Barron is because she won't sleep with him. And Dylan doesn't realise just how much Laura walks the streets and how much she pays the coppers to save his skin time and time again."

As the trio approached the back entrance Ned gave one final bitter remark. "Oh yeah, and Dylan wants to get Laura off heroin, but she can't, so she injects it between her toes so that he can't see her needle marks."


	9. Chapter 9

Amy and Evan retreated to the rooftop again that night, not at all prepared to face their new colleagues at the Latin Quarter. When they had entered the building that afternoon after Ned had let the truth out about the dirty religion Melbourne CI was, Barron had been wondering the halls, a curious and angry look upon his face. He had seen the three of them walk in together and had not looked happy. It frightened Amy. He seemed to be everywhere she turned.

The Mt Thomas duo settled into the deckchairs that sat on the rooftop and watched the sunset over Melbourne, chewing thoughtfully again on BBQ Shapes. Amy's face was contorted with confusion and fear. She leant forward in her chair and looked him squarely in the eye, seeking an answer so badly. "Am I blowing this all out of proportion Jonesy? Is it nothing? Am I being paranoid?" she was so unsure. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

Evan just chuckled in response, but it was an apprehensive chuckle, not light hearted in the least. "No way Amy, you're not paranoid," he reassured her as strongly as he could manage.

"I'm so scared," she admitted quietly, sitting back in her chair. "I'm so scared that I'm out of my depth. That I know too much. That this wasn't the right position for me after all." She rubbed at her eyes tiredly.

Evan had nothing to say in reply and they both sat dejectedly out on the rooftop until it again became too dark and too cold to sit out there any longer.

Amy lay in bed that night, thousands of thoughts tumbling through her subconscious as she tried to sleep. Now not only was Alex laying heavy on her mind, but so was work, now more than ever. Ned had spoken with such grit and anger, because the force in which he worked for was so not the way it was supposed to be and he hated that. Amy could sympathise. It wasn't how she wanted it to be either. But what could they do? She tossed and turned and got little sleep.

She rose early and headed out to work just as the sun was rising over the city skyline. Her mind not really on the road, she drove towards headquarters, but when she was just streets away from the building, a swarm of cop cars caught her eye, all parked jaggedly in the carpark of the city's botanic gardens. In the middle of them all, parked neatly and straight was Ned's unmarked sedan. He wasn't inside.

Knowing something was wrong, Amy indicated, turned and pulled up on the side of the road by the gardens. She got out of her car and walked hesitantly towards the scene, unsure if she really wanted to see whatever was there. If this was an o.d she definitely didn't want to. She knew she'd throw up her breakfast. It'd been a long time since she'd seen a city overdose.

But it was no junkie with a needle sticking out of the crook of his arm. No, it was Ned, with three gaping bullet holes in his chest. Amy gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth as she did so, so as not to attract attention. But as always, Barron was just lurking behind the next corner, and they shared eye contact for a second as she took in the scene before her.

As she stood, rooted to the spot, Bronte James made her way through the throng of suits and walked up to Amy before looping an arm around her shoulder in sympathy. "I'm sorry Amy, it's Ned." It seemed to be all Bronte would squeak out, and Amy looked at her, her hand still over her mouth, her eyes still wide. There was no 'he was a fine officer' or 'we'll find the bastard'. Just five little words, breaking the horrifying news.

But Amy still asked, probably sounding more stupid than she realised. "Who? When?"

"He was out with Barron early this morning. They were here - surveillance on Dylan McMahon. Stupid little dickhead had a shottie. Opened fire the minute he saw them."

Amy just ran away. She ran down the street and back to her car, not able to think of anything else but running away. Bullshit they were on surveillance together, she thought to herself, her brain squealing erratically. Ned had given Barron a wide berth the whole time she had known them both. And especially not when he knew all he did about Barron, Dylan and Laura's game.

Things had suddenly got a lot uglier.

"Jonesy!" she yelled, rapping on the door to his little ground floor flat, so strikingly similar to the run down state of her own. "Jonesy! For Christ's sake, let me in!" her voice was already going hoarse.

The door sprang open, and Evan, in his trackies and singlet, stared sleepily back at her. "What?" he asked, standing aside to let her in.

"He's been popped!" she exclaimed, suddenly realising the need to lower her voice, now that she had his undivided attention. An experienced cop with more than a decade of cases under her belt, a death shouldn't have shocked her anymore. But this was different.

Jonesy was still half asleep, and rubbed at his eyes in confusion. "Who?"

"Ned!" she stared at him wide eyed, a look of pure panic ripping across her face at startling speed.

"What?" he repeated, more with it this time.

"Apparently out on surveillance with Barron, early this morning, at the botanic gardens." Amy shoved Jonesy's shoulder in an effort to make him catch on quicker and become more awake. "They were watching for Dylan McMahon," she revealed, nodding her head vigouressly at him.

"But Ned would never…?" Jonesy was mentally scratching his head, Amy could tell.

"He would never work with Barron," Amy confirmed, shaking her head at him to support her answer.

"And hasn't Dylan…?"

"Pissed off with Barron's rock of pure heroin? Yes sir." Amy plonked herself down on the couch and watched as Evan did the same beside her.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.


	10. Chapter 10

Sitting in stunned silence for a while, neither really knew what to say. Worried before, they were shit scared now. Amy sat on Evan's couch, her head in her hands as she contemplated going into work. For a few moments, to calm herself, she tried to imagine herself back in Mt Thomas.

Seemed like Evan was imagining the same thing. "This sort of stuff never happened in Mt Thomas," he sighed, looking pointedly at her. She stared back at him through the gaps in her fingers, as her hands still hiding her face away. "I don't think I ever saw more than a few grams of heroin there." He chuckled sadly to himself.

It made Amy chuckle sadly to herself as well. She nodded in agreement, no strength to actually say any words. They sat side by side on Evan's couch for several more minutes before either actually spoke.

"I called Alex," Amy whispered, confiding yet again in her old mate. She flopped back onto the couch as everything that she'd said into the phone that night came flooding back.

Evan's face suddenly softened in sympathy for her. He knew she was having a hard time with their split, and it probably being the reason she was so stressed about work. "And?" he asked, unsure if he should interfere.

She sighed sadly, trying not to let it show too much. "He didn't call back."

He reached over and patted her hand. "I'm sorry Amy."

She shrugged, perhaps finally accepting that it wasn't meant to be. She and Alex would never grow old together.

By lunchtime, Amy and Evan had managed to drag themselves into work, after avoiding it for as long as they could. Nobody had called asking them urgently to come in, so they knew they weren't missed. But as Amy walked inside she got the distinct feeling some people had noticed her absence that morning.

She and Evan hurried along the hallway to her office, which he had taken up residence in for the time being also. They sat on either sides of the desk, facing each other and fidgeting mercilessly with the objects that cluttered Amy's desk. It was all beginning to get to them.

"We need to tell somebody." It was all Evan could come up with.

"Who the hell do we tell Evan?! Who the fuck is left?!" Amy exclaimed, instantly regretting blowing her stack. She apologised immediately. "I'm sorry Jonesy," she said, closing her eyes briefly. "I just don't know what to do."

He didn't seem to have anything to say to that, and luckily hadn't been offending at her swearing at him.

Amy shrugged her shoulders for the second time that day, feeling utterly useless. "I mean…" she stuttered, flustered and worried. "I just don't know who I can trust anymore. I don't even know if I'm on the straight and narrow anymore!" her head went into her hands again.

"Of course you are Amy," Evan soothed. "But there must be someone…"

"Who is left?" she asked again, staring profusely at him, "Who is left that we can trust? How we do we even know that anyone in this building is not bent?!" She pushed her fingers into her eyes, her tiredness overwhelming her.

She leant forward, realising the need to educate Jonesy to the full potential needed. "Have you realised that we are the only two coppers in this place that live in tiny flats, on the bottom floors, with the cheapest rent?" She made him look her in the eye. "That we drive old cars, and alternate the same half dozen outfits every week?"

Evan slowly began to nod, fully realising the scale of the situation they had suddenly found themselves dumped into. Amy pressed on. "We are unique here Evan. If you and I were bent, we would have bigger houses, that's for sure."

"So what do we do?" he asked, hoping against hope that she would have an answer, as he had always known her to.

"I don't know." She stared out her office window as she replied sadly. Arrangements were still being made for Ned's funeral, despite him being shot by one of their own.


	11. Chapter 11

As Amy and Evan packed up their things just a few hours later, ready to head home after a good half a day being very obviously excluded from any sort of investigation into Ned's death, Amy's mobile phone buzzed loudly in her jacket pocket, waking her up out of her gloom suddenly.

She stared at the screen, looking at the unfamiliar number. "Fox," she answered, bringing the phone up to her ear, as she continued to pile things into her briefcase with her free hand.

"Is this Amy?" a timid, yet at the same time so familiar, voice asked at the other end. It made Amy stop.

"Yes…" she replied, suspicious. "Who's this?"

"It's Laura," came the reply and Amy snapped her fingers at Evan beside her to get his attention. Amy sat down in her chair, her undivided attention now with Laura Grimaldi and her only.

"How did you get this number?" Amy asked, hugely curious.

"Ned gave it to me," she whispered, before going on. "I know what's happened Amy," she confessed, sounding scared. "I know about this morning…about Ned."

"How much do you know?" Amy asked.

"I know that it wasn't Dylan," she began to cry.

"How can you be sure?"

"It wasn't him all right?!" she began to lose her cool. "If it was him, he would be here protecting me from all this shit, but he's not, and a contract has been taken out on my fucking life!" She sounded delirious and desperate, sobbing into the phone, whilst her tone of voice remained tinged with anger. Amy got the feeling this was one part of life on the street that she'd never experienced.

Amy took a deep breath in. "So where is he?" she asked, almost afraid of what the answer might be.

"I don't know!" she screeched it so loudly Amy had to hold the phone away from her ear for a second. "But he's taken off with Barron's stash and now Barron's pissed that he can't find Dylan so he's coming after me!"

Evan stared intently at her, able to hear only snatches of Laura's screeching from where he sat beside Amy. Amy in turn stared back at him with panic in her eyes. They darted over her desk, searching for her keys as she stood up again. She was nodding into the phone hurriedly and Jonesy darted out of her way as she pushed past him toward the door.

"We'll meet you, just stay there," she pleaded, before hanging up the phone and turning to him.

"He's taken a contract out on her," she revealed still disbelieving it had got this far.

"What?" Evan asked, sounding even more disbelieving.

Amy shook her head, overwhelmed with all the new information she had suddenly come into. "Dylan's disappeared with the heroin that he had bought on credit from Barron. And because Dylan isn't around to look out for Laura like he usually does, Barron is going after Laura to make Dylan come back with his heroin."

"So where is she?" Evan asked as they ran out the door and towards the lifts.

"She's-" Amy stopped short when she saw Barron in the doorway to Bronte's office. She lowered her voice as they continued running towards the only person who could help them prove Ned had been shot by Barron. "She's in a motel on St Kilda Road."

Evan punched the buttons in the lift hard as they got their breaths back. Moments later they ran again out of the lift, into the carpark and into Evan's truck. As Evan revved the engine and pulled them out of the carpark and onto the main road tears finally began to well in Amy's eyes as she realised Ned was gone.

Evan watched her cry quietly out of the corner of his eye as he drove. What a difference Alex could make if he was here to console her, he thought to himself.

Amy and Evan sat in Laura's grubby motel room, preferring to stand than sit on the dirty furniture. There were surprisingly little of Laura's possessions around, and Amy guessed she would stay one night and then flit off again, especially given the new current situation.

"When did you talk to Ned?" Amy asked, her arms folded across her chest, Evan at her side.

"Who are you?" Laura asked, ignoring Amy's question and staring directly at Evan. She scratched repeatedly at her arm as she spoke, a habit Amy knew had come from her constant injecting.

Amy answered the question for her, not wanting to waste any time with chitchat. "This is my colleague, Evan. You can trust him. He was in the car with us yesterday…remember?"

Laura nodded her head absentmindedly before turning back to Amy and answering her question at last. "He was at the Latin Quarter last night…we talked." She seemed uneasy in revealing this, and soon regretted it.

Amy blew her fringe out of her face, exasperated. "What were you doing there?!" Amy did everything she could to keep from yelling. Who knew who was waiting around the next corner. Or in the hallway for that matter. She still wanted to get in there and out of there before Barron came sniffing. She threw her hands up in the air and stared Laura down angrily. "You know that's where Barron drinks!" she couldn't believe Laura's naïve stupidity.

Laura's eyeline dropped and she stared at the floor. "I know I know!" she replied, stubbing her bare foot into the carpet. "But it was the only place I could find Ned."

"And why did you want to speak to him?"

"I thought he would know what to do, to get me out of this shit," Laura replied, suddenly sounding like a little girl. No matter how hard she had become on the streets of Melbourne, no matter how many guys she had bedded, let hit her around and become immune to, she was still frightened underneath it all.

"Why?" Evan asked, butting in suddenly.

"Because Dylan has pissed off and left me here!" she cried, shoving stuff in a handbag as she spoke, her attention now not completely with them.

"So why is Barron after you?" Amy asked, trying to figure it all out in her head as quickly as she could.

"Because I'm all that's left! I'm the only one he has left to get rid of!" she exclaimed, flurrying around the tiny room, gathering her few meagre possessions. "He's popped Ned, he can't find Dylan, and he's pissed at me cos I don't know where Dylan is either, and he wants me to keep quiet about everything I know."

"And?" Evan was trying harder than Amy was to understand the whole drama.

"And he knows that I won't, because I will do nothing for Barron, but…"

"…everything for Dylan right?" Amy rolled her eyes at Laura's commitment. It seemed to be the only stable thing in the girls life.

Laura nodded weakly, suddenly looking eager to get out of the confined space of the motel room.

"But what else do you know?" Amy asked, grabbing Laura by the wrist before she went into the bathroom.

The question finally made Laura stop. "Look I know you don't think very much of me." She looked Amy in the eye when she said that. "But I knew what I was getting into when I started this life. I was never destined for anything else. But I'm not as stupid as you think. I've kept notes. I know people." She walked into the en suite and emerged again just seconds later, waving a small striped diary under their noses. She raised her eyebrows at them, knowing she now had their undivided attention. "Names, dates, amounts, when, where, why…" she explained. "It's all here."

"All?" Amy asked, a little shocked at such a piece of crucial evidence so within her reach.

"This baby could bring down the entire Victoria Police." She sat down on the bed, crossed her legs and looked at them.

Amy and Evan just didn't know what to say. They didn't even know if they were ready for this. Training never included stuff like this. You were on your own. Amy looked at Jonesy and then turned to Laura. She stated the obvious. "Well you've got to lay low, you know that right?" she asked her.

"Of course I bloody know that," she rolled her eyes at Amy. "You won't hear from me until I contact you."

"Where are you going to go?" Evan asked, knowing he didn't sound like the reliable cop he was supposed to be.

"I'm just gonna stay out of sight," she proclaimed before walking out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

Minutes later Amy and Evan exited too, leaving the motel out a side entrance. Amy, jitters making her weary after the day she had had, got into the passenger seat of Evan's truck, grateful to not have to drive herself. She turned to him as he started up the engine. "I need to pick up my car…I left it at the office," she reminded him as they drove away. Nodding, he steered them in the direction of the Homicide building slowly, as they made their way through the peak hour traffic.

By the time they got there it was well after 7:30pm, and Amy was dragging her body along the pavement more wearily than ever. Evan walked beside her as they headed towards her car, parked in the far corner of the lot. As they approached where her car sat quietly Evan became aware of a faint scuffling behind them, but when he looked at Amy and saw that she hadn't noticed, he dismissed it and went back to walking along silently.

But when a bullet skimmed past his shoulder and narrowly missed hitting them both, he instantly knew that he wasn't wrong in thinking he had heard something. Diving for cover behind the few vehicles left in the parking lot, his chest hit the gravel ground with a hard thump that came close to winding him. His cheek scraping the ground, he looked up for a fleeting moment to see where Amy was because in the dire second that had lingered after the bullet had passed, he hadn't seen her dive for cover like he had.

Amy still remained standing, almost frozen with fear and unable to put her reactions into gear to save herself. It took her several seconds to realise she was being shot at and in those seconds the unthinkable seemed to happen and turning around to face the shooter, she couldn't quite believe that Barron had pulled a gun on her, less than 4 metres from where she stood. It was the last thing she had been expecting and her weary mind, coupled with her weary body didn't even think to hit the ground the way Jonesy had.

So bullets ripped through the air towards her, and several skimmed past her cheek, at least three in quick succession so close to the side of her face that she could feel the heat of the speed of the bullets as they zinged past her. It was the closest she'd ever been to the receiving end of a gunshot and it scared the shit out of her.

So close did the bullets come to her frozen composure that they deafened her instantly, and she didn't even hear Barron's pistol fire its last bullet. The bullet that came in contact with its target. Amy hadn't heard the gunshot, and so only realised it had been let off when she felt the stabbing pain in her arm, just below the elbow. It was then that her knees buckled underneath her and she crumbled to the ground in the first streaks of nighttime. She fell heavily onto the side of her car, banging the side of her head on the way down and clutching her arm in a daze. Across from her, sheltering under another car, Evan looked at her, panic stricken, but unable to move until he heard a set of tyres squeal out of the carpark and disappear into the night air.

He clambered over to Amy and put his hand over hers as it gripped her bleeding arm. She stared at him, shocked and afraid, and still not fully comprehending that he had pulled a gun and shot at her in an effort to get rid of someone else who knew too much. Tears that she didn't know she had slithered down her face silently as the pain began to pick its way through her body and she slumped further against the car.

"Amy Amy," Evan prompted pulling her gently back up to sitting. "Stay with me, sit up. Sit up mate." Her eyes fluttered as her hand began to fall away from holding her arm, the energy suddenly evaporating from her body. He held her against him as she slipped into unconsciousness, despite only having a minor wound. He worried that her state of stress had contributed to her being shot and succumbing so easily to a wound that wouldn't usually affect someone so greatly.


	13. Chapter 13

It was the middle of the night before Evan finally got to see her again. Led into the quiet room, Evan stared wide eyed at his sleeping colleague, the colour drained from her face and her hair and limbs lifeless. He sat beside her bed, taking in her heavily bandaged arm and the drip injected into the top of her hand. They had had to sedate her. She was beginning to worsen with everything that happened at Homicide. Evan knew she needed to see Alex. But would he come?

Later, letting go of Amy's hand and allowing her to continue sleeping, Evan slipped out of the room and into the dark corridor before walking a little further and opening a door that lead to a stairwell and pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket. The screen now had a hairline crack right through the middle after his dive for cover that afternoon, but it was still working and so he punched in Alex's number.

"Hey guys. You've reached Alex. I'm not here right now, so leave me a message and if you're lucky I'll get back to you." Evan took the phone away from his ear and looked at it, disbelieving that Alex could ignore him in his hour of need. Or, rather, in Amy's hour of need. He sighed and spoke into the phone.

"Mate it's Jonesy," he sighed, not really knowing what to say that would convince him to come. "Something's happened…Amy's been shot." He ran his hands tiredly over his shaved head. "It's nothing too bad, just a surface wound, but…I just think she'll want to see you when she wakes up."

The next morning Amy awoke just before lunch to find her room disparingly empty. She sighed and looked down at the arm that ached by her side. She only vaguely remembered being shot at, and she wanted desperately for someone to tell her what else had happened.

As she was staring down at her wound, picking at the sides of the dressing, Evan entered, smiling. He spoke, but she leant forward, only able to hear muffled noises coming from his mouth. She frowned intently and sat herself up in the bed, straining to hear what he was saying to her. Frustratingly, his lips kept moving, but she still couldn't hear it.

"Amy?" he asked, making his way closer to her bedside. She struggled to sit up, and she leant forward as far as she could towards him as if she couldn't make out his words, despite him speaking loudly the more she frowned.

She gestered frantically with her hands, hot tears welling in her eyes. She couldn't hear him. He ran to get a doctor.

Amy sat back against her pillows, her tears now dried crusty and salty across her cheeks. A temporary loss of hearing they had said. Caused by her elevated stress levels over the last month, the closeness of the bullets being fired to her right ear and the angle and force at which she had hit her head when she had fallen. It could be permanent, or it could just last a couple of days. She would have to wait it out. Nobody mentioned how frustrating and fright such a wait would be.

She sent Jonesy away- if she couldn't hear him why should they even try to communicate? She just turned over in the sheets and continued to wallow in the way in which she felt so helpless. Hot tears again pricked at her eyes as she stared out the window, engulfed in the dreadful silence that was now all she could hear.

The tears streamed down her cheeks. What if I can never hear Alex again? She thought to herself. What if I can never hear him say my name? Or tell me goodnight? What if I can never hear him tell me he loves me again? Whether I truly can't hear it or he just never says it anyway?

She sighed and tried to sleep, trying her hardest to put him out of her mind. But everytime she closed her eyes she saw herself back in the carpark. Fear radiated like shock through within her as she remembered standing there, staring at Barron as he held a gun in his strong fist and pointed it at her. The fear made her bones and her senses rattle, and whether she kept her eyes open or closed, memories plagued her mind.

Stuck in a hospital bed, her hearing gone and her muscles aching, she missed what she used to have with Alex. She missed it so much that it hurt to think about. What had she thrown away? It must've been something good if it was all she had wanted since their split. Had it been a rash, premature decision to split? At the time they had made the decision and thought it was for the best. But now that they were apart Amy wasn't so sure. Problem was, what if it was just a one sided thing? What if he hadn't even thought about missing her? Because he hadn't returned her call, so what made her even assume that he would come to see her now? Even if Jonesy had called him, and she knew he had.

If you still see what I see

Keep holdin' on

Hold onto me

And on top of all that, as if life wasn't messed up enough, Amy was beginning to fear for her career. If her playing with fire wasn't enough to lose her her job, then this potential disability would see her out of there for sure.


	14. Chapter 14

The only person that came to visit Amy over the next day and a half, Evan was the one the doctors confided to about her progress, which was going torturously slow. Late Friday afternoon they took him aside and spoke quietly too him, concerned frowns shadowing their faces.

They sat down at the end of a hallway, the door to Amy's room still open just metres away. "Has Amy been under any particular stress lately?" one of the doctors leant forward in his seat and looked at Evan worriedly.

Evan nodded sadly, but couldn't find the right words to explain. In the end he just shrugged his shoulders and gave a weak answer. "Work, you know…" he didn't want to elaborate. It was too hard. Too involved. Too much of a mess.

"Her hearing is coming back, which is a good sign, but we feel she might need some extra help in other areas." The worried looks still clouded their faces.

"Other areas?" Evan was almost afraid to ask.

"The hospital psychologist can be of great help with cases like these." They seemed eager to push the idea and stared at Evan intently.

We were always best of friends

Stick together and defend

But Evan was quick to defend Amy and whatever she might be going through. He knew her better than they did. And he knew she wasn't paranoid. "Amy won't need that. She'll be fine. I'll take her home when she's ready and she'll be fine." He stood up and looked down at the doctors. "Her…" he hesitated for a moment, unsure of what Alex was to Amy anymore. Her friend? Her partner? Her boyfriend? None of those things? "Someone is coming to be with her anyway." And with that he walked away, out to the courtyard to get some air.

There he sat down tiredly on a wooden bench, the smell of roses tingling his senses pleasantly. He sat there for half an hour, just trying to think up some miracle solution when a voice could be heard so familiar that it made him smile for what seemed like the first time since he'd arrived in Melbourne that Friday afternoon.

"Thanks for the directions," Alex said, waving off an orderly who had directed him to the courtyard where Evan sat. Evan stood up to meet his best friend, one whom he had maybe drifted a little from in the past year. But he was still glad to see him, and still felt he had the authority to order him in the direction of Amy's room when he protested.

"I can't do it Jonesy," he said. "We split up for a reason." The pained looked that shrouded his face was indescribable. He had seen the same look on Amy's face recently too.

"I don't care!" he growled, keeping his voice down as best he could. "She needs you. Get in there," he demanded, pointing down the hall towards Amy's lonely room.

Alex continued to protest. "I just came here to see if she was ok," he was almost speaking through gritted teeth. "Just tell me she's ok." He pleaded quietly with his best friend, unable to look him in the eye.

"She's not." And with that Evan shoved Alex through the door of the courtyard and back inside where he stumbled reluctantly down the hall to where Amy lay.

When he entered he stepped into the room lightly, trying not to make any noise as it was clear she was sleeping. She lay hidden in amongst the sheets, her forehead creased still with frown lines, despite being in the relative safety of the hospital. Even as she slept she looked troubled and Alex's eyes fell downcast as he sat beside her bed. Had it been because of him? Had she been this unhappy the whole time they had been apart? The way he had?

The day she had left he had avoided contact with her completely, not wanting to prolong the agony and keep on reconfirming for himself that she was moving away, away from him and everything they had shared. It hurt to remind himself all the time that it was over, despite them agreeing that they weren't right for each other anymore.

She had moved to Melbourne, thinking she was leaving him behind in Mt Thomas to focus on his career, and work towards further promotion. And he did plan to do that, but he still missed her. And with everyday that passed it got worse. Used to waking up beside her every morning he now brushed his teeth alone, standing in front of the mirror. There were no more bathroom water fights where one of them would end up slipping over and laugh so much the pain floated away. In the year they had been together, Alex had managed to change many of Amy's previously unchangeable ways, and so while most people wouldn't believe Amy would ever take part in a water fight, she did, and it was one of many secret things Amy and Alex enjoyed together.

On top of that, there were no more sneaked kisses in the hallway or holding hands out to the carpark. No more quiet nights in bed, promising each other that one day they would run away together. He missed her terribly, but she was too far away for him to tell. And besides, would she even want to know? He was sure she wouldn't.

But then she had called. He didn't know why he didn't call her back. He'd meant to, but rehearsing what to say, nothing had sounded right. Now, sitting beside her bed, stroking the top of her hand only lightly enough that she wouldn't wake, he wondered why he hadn't screwed up the courage to return her phone call. By the look on her face, the dark aura that surrounded her as she lay sleeping and the way Jonesy had been so insistent he make the trip to Melbourne to be with her, he caught himself wondering if she missed him the way he missed her.

I hear your voice on the line

But it doesn't stop the pain

She slept all afternoon, and when Evan came to poke his head into the room to see if any progress had been made, he simply gave Alex a nod and a wave, content that he would remain with her during the night. And he did. As the sun set outside Amy's window, he remained by her bedside watching her as she slept.

As time ticked on Amy's frown became deeper as she continued to sleep uneasily. Tugging at his insides, Alex couldn't help but comfort her and he held her hand tighter the more she frowned. Finally he got up and walked around to the other side of Amy's bed, lifted up the sheets and, despite it being a hot, humid night, slipped under the covers beside her, closer to her than he had been in months.

Amy awoke instantly, stirred into consciousness by the differing of weight on her bed. She rolled over to face away from the door and came face to face with the last person she had been expecting to see. The words were on the tip of her tongue, even straight from slumber. "They shot at me," she whispered, her voice croaky and choked up, her face crumpled.

Alex enveloped her into his arms as they lay there, an overwhelming feeling overcoming him, He felt guilty she had felt she had to move here, to become embroiled in such a dangerous side of policing, putting her life at risk, simply because they couldn't, or wouldn't, work side by side anymore. What had he made her do? He thought to himself as he smelt the floral scent of her hair again, and felt her little body next to his.

As they pulled apart several moments later, Amy brushed at her cheeks hastily with the backs of her hands to rid herself of her tears. As she swiped her hand across her face, she caught sight of a scrawl on Alex's chest, just poking out from under his shirt. She stared at it, puzzled for several moments before he caught her line of sight.

Pulling on his shirt, he revealed to her what had caught her eye. A tiny scrawl of curly writing, less than a centimetre high, spelt out 'Amy' over his heart, a tattoo he had gotten just days after she had left Mt Thomas and he had realised how much she meant to him.

"Why did you get it?" she breathed, still unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny little scrawl of permanent ink.

"I wanted something to remind me of you…I didn't want to forget you Amy." He was aware of how lame and clichéd it sounded, but it was all that seemed to come out.

Her mouth opened but words didn't emerge. She simple stared at the tattoo for several seconds before looking back up into Alex's eyes. And he was ready with something to say. "You ran away without me Amy," he whispered, unable to stroke her hair or touch her cheek the way he would've done in the past. "I thought we promised to be together forever?" he prodded her incessantly.

Things aren't the way they were before

You wouldn't even recognise me anymore

She didn't know what to say for a moment, because she knew, essentially, that he was right. "We did," she admitted, still whispering. "But things were different then. We're not the same people anymore Alex."

Alex knew she was right.


	15. Chapter 15

The following morning Amy checked out of the hospital, toting with her just the clothes on her back and a heavily bandaged forearm that sat uncomfortably in a sling. Evan met her at the entrance to the hospital, her safe escort back to his flat. She could no longer stay in her own flat, for fear that Barron and those who associated with him had put a price tag on her head, determined to have her wiped out of the Victoria Police. The kindly woman who lived across the street from Amy's block of flats and with whom Amy had become friends with during her short time in Melbourne, had volunteered to gather her possessions for her and had her grandson deliver them to Evan's flat several suburbs away, eliminating hopefully, any links that any bent copper could grapple onto. Evan and Amy certainly couldn't return to the flat. Not now.

Amy didn't return to work. She didn't go to Ned's funeral. She couldn't. She knew that the way in which they were going to bury him was falsified and wrong, and they would tell the mourners that he had been killed in the line of duty. But Amy and Evan knew he hadn't. And she knew Barron would still be on the prowl, knowing he hadn't succeeded fully in his attempt at exterminating her.

Her first night out of hospital, she attempted sleep on Evan's couch, but was unable to get comfortable with her injured arm always getting in the way. Sleeping on the floor beside her was Alex, a constant fixture in Amy and Evan's runs for safety ever since he had arrived in Melbourne,

"Amy?" he whispered into the darkness, his hands behind his head staring up at the ceiling.

Amy just grunted in reply, beginning to get frustrated that she couldn't sleep. So much was weighing so heavily on her mind, and coupled with the pain that constantly radiated from her arm still, sleep seemed an impossible task. Without thinking she slithered awkwardly off the couch, as if out of habit, and onto the floor beside Alex, instantly settling into the curves of his chest. Her fingers lingered over his heart and hovered over the tattoo that spelt her name. She still couldn't believe he had gone and done something like that. It seemed like such an extreme thing to do. But nevertheless, no matter how incredulous she was, she was touched somewhere deep inside.

He slipped a warm arm around her, and rubbed at her shoulder soothingly. "How did you get yourself into this mess Amy?" he whispered, moving his hand to her hair, stroking the strands that tumbled from her head effortlessly.

She just shrugged in reply, not knowing an answer. "I don't want to be running for the rest of my life Alex," she whispered at last.

He shuffled a little in his position on the floor so that he could look her straight in the eye, something that seemed harder to do the more he thought about it.

You leave me breathless the way you look at me

They both seemed lost for words for a moment, back together, so close, for the first time in a long time. At that moment they both missed desperately the fire that used to simmer between them a year ago when they had first been in love. Amy knew that it was perhaps an impossible dream to think that they could go back to the way they were, but she clung to it desperately because above all else, it seemed to be the only stable thing she could rely on in her life. With Alex everything might not have always been ok, but at least she was happy.

"Am I crazy? Can I still do this job?" she asked in the darkness, fully aware that she had never once questioned whether she could do this job up until now. But times had changed. She'd been shot at since then, something that still paralysed her with fear just thinking about it.

I can say anything crazy

and know you'll catch me right before I hit the ground

"You're not crazy," his sentences were still devoid of any nicknames he might've called her in the past, because he was still so unsure whether the same fire they both remembered was appropriate right now and could be recaptured back again.

"But…" she stumbled on her words, suddenly so aware that she was in Alex's arms again, the place she had longed to be for so long. "I've never questioned this before Alex," she pressed on, seeking a reassuring answer that would ease her worries. "Do I still seem like the same person? Do I still seem like the copper I was in Mt Thomas?"

If you still see what I see

Keep holdin' on

Hold onto me

Alex could see the desperation in her eyes – questioning her integrity, her self worth, her strength. Now was the time for concrete reassurances, and he decided that if they couldn't go back to the way they were, they should at least enjoy this quiet night moment on the floor of Evan's living room. "You'll always be my Amy," he whispered truthfully to her.

It wasn't the answer she was after, but it helped all the same. "I wish I'd never left." She snuggled closer to him, feeling safe, and her fingers brushed over the tattoo on his chest before their eyes connected. "God…I miss you so much."

He turned on the floor to face her front on and eased her lips towards his and kissed her, taking everything he couldn't bring himself to say and poured it into her.

Almost forgot what it was like

To know what love feels like with you

Amy's mobile rang early the next morning and it jolted her unpleasantly awake at Alex's side. Grappling at the coffee table she fumbled with her phone and answered it on the fifth ring. "'lo?" she mumbled sleepily into the phone, trying to sit up. She reached out for Alex awkwardly, who had also been stirred awake thanks to the ringing of the phone and he helped her to lean with her back against the couch.

"They've arrested me on some bullshit charge," Laura Grimaldi whispered harshly into Amy's ear. Laura spat out her words, and in the background Amy could hear the noises she knew came from the busy 5th floor of Homicide. They'd got her. Amy looked at Jonesy with wide eyes as he sauntered into the room, rubbing at his eyes, the first streaks of morning waking him slowly.

"What do you mean?" Amy asked urgently, wondering at the same time where she even got the strength from to still act like a copper. The last few weeks, and the last few days especially had been like a beating, and she wondered if she could possibly go on.

Laura continued to bubble over with anger as she answered Amy's questions. "They're shitting themselves about the info I've kept on them and they pulled out all stops to find me."

"Where were you?" Amy still remained very confused, and rubbed at her temple with her other hand, gingerly avoiding putting her bandaged forearm to too much use.

"I was in Surry Hills…an old friends place," she replied, the sound of defeat beginning to invade her tone of voice. "Someone from the street must've blabbed. No way would any of you coppers know this place. Somebody's been tempted by Barron. It was him that arrested me."

Amy frowned, closeing her eyes for a moment as she tried to work out what to do next. It was a near impossible situation. She couldn't go in and defend Laura, because she was supposed to be on the side of the police, but right now, the police had two sides. Only a legal counsel could help Laura now. That or a miracle. Amy didn't know what to say.

"Laura…" she stumbled on her words, feeling useless in the advice and help she could offer the poor girl. "I don't know what I can do…I…I can't help." She gulped down the lump that was rising in her throat. "They're after me too."

While sharing this valuable information over the telephone Amy realised with a start that they could even be onto her phones. She became restless instantly and tried to end the conversation with Laura. "They'll release you. They know that Dylan will come and put up the bail for you…it's their way of getting him out into the open again. They want Dylan. Barron wants Dylan." Amy was putting the pieces of the puzzle slowly together in her head.

"What if he doesn't come? What if he doesn't hear about me being in here?" Laura almost shrieked. Amy was taken aback by her niavity at that point. Of course Dylan would hear about it. Barron arresting Laura would be the biggest news on the street in months. She was disbelieving that Laura hadn't already worked that out, but then, remembering back to her moment of staring down the barrel of a gun with Barron at the other end and not realising it soon enough, Amy quickly understood Laura's slow reactions.

"He'll come. Find me when you're out." And with that she threw the phone down on the living room floor as if it was on fire. She put her head in her hands again and shook her head within them sadly. Jonesy bent over her and rubbed at her shoulder reassuringly. She looked up at him, tear filled eyes making up the vast majority of her broken expression. Never before had he seen Amy Fox look so doubtful, so afraid and so hollowed out. It was a scary image that haunted him wherever he went. "What if they're still onto me?" she asked the two men, fear filling her voice. "What if they're in my phone? This place? My car? Your car?" She began to panic as she sat there on the floor, staring wide eyed at her surroundings as if something would jump out at her. Just like with Barron's presence, something scary still seemed to be around every corner, even in her little sanctuary where she was protected by two of her closest confidantes. Paranoia was again beginning to settle in. But this time it was well justified.

"Amy." Alex began, but stopped short when he saw that she only had eyes for Evan. He was her partner in the mess. Alex was disconnected from it all somehow. It made Alex pick himself up off the floor where he sat beside Amy and onto the couch across the room. He watched as two of the most important people in his life shared a look of dread he himself could never completely understand.

The hours ticked by, and Amy and Evan seemed reluctant to leave their hideout. The curtains remained closed, and nobody left the tiny flat. Amy's phone remained on the floor where she had thrown it, and she lay on the couch where she slept on and off until mid afternoon when her mobile phone rang again.

The three of them, spread around the main domain of Evan's flat, eyed the phone suspiciously as it flashed and rang. Finally Amy leaned over, and still handling it uncomfortably, she answered the call. Of course it was Laura, and this time she sounded positively hysterical.

"He promised to be back in half an hour Amy! He hasn't come back!!" she was almost yelling down the phone, no explanation, no introduction, just pure hysterical screeching. Amy wondered what she did to ever get herself embroiled in such a bloody mess.

"Who? Dylan? Did he bail you out?" Amy was so sure he had.

She was right. "Sent his cousin down to pick me up," she finally ceased speaking in her riddles. "Organised for Dylan to drop ten grand at Barron's feet this afternoon. Two o'clock Amy! He should've been back by now!"

Amy grabbed at Evan's wrist beside her and stared at his watch. 3:10pm. Amy had a bad feeling. It only takes a moment to kill someone she thought silently. She spoke soothingly into the phone in an effort to lower Laura's blood pressure. She couldn't believe what came out of her mouth – the same as had come out only days prior. "We'll meet you, stay there."

By 3:30pm Laura was huddled in a ball in the back seat of Evan's truck, Amy by her side. Under her eyes hung dark rings of worry and concern. Junkie relationship or not, Dylan was Laura's blonde God and she would never get far without him.

Evan drove quickly and quietly to where the drop off place had been organised, knowing only too well what they would find there. It was a classic story that echoed happenings of the past, and he knew that this would be no different. He might've only ever seen a few grams of heroin in Mt Thomas, but he had got a speedy crash course in crooked policing since his arrival in Melbourne, and had already figured out what was next in the timeline. Like Warren Lanfranchi. Like Harvey Jones. Like Sallie-Anne Huckstepp. They had all met the same fate at the hands of crooked cops and unruly gangsters. Evan knew it was Dylan's fate too. You play with fire too long and you get burnt. Every cop knew that. But not every crim did.

Lucky Evan had anticipated the scene that would confront the trio when they arrived at the deserted bayside sand dunes, because it made him insist that Laura stay in the car with Amy whilst he tried to be bold and went to have a look.

Slumped on the shoreline of the windy little beach was Dylan McMahon, the life now cruelly and cold heartedly sucked out of him. He faced away from Evan, his battered body and dead open eyes looking out towards the Tasman and the lowering sun. Evan didn't want to get too close but knew he had to know for sure in his own mind, as well as for Amy's and Laura's. He stepped over to the body and leant over gingerly, without bending down, and took in the horrific look that had shadowed over Dylan's face.

Evan took a deep breath and walked back to the car. Dylan had gone. Gone to join the frightfully long list of society's lowest who'd been robbed of their chance to make a clean life elsewhere. Laura was lucky she wasn't yet on that list.

Approaching his truck in the late afternoon sun, Evan was eager to get away from the scene, but Laura would have nothing of it. She saw the look on his face as he returned from the dunes. It was a look that said it all. But she had to see for herself, despite the heart breaking sight that would meet her eyes, and despite Amy and Jonesy's pleas to remain in the car Laura stumbled barefoot as she ran to the dunes. Disappearing behind the sandy mounds Amy and Evan could only wait. Moments passed before the two had to drag her along the beach and return her to the car, a crumpled mess of sobbing grief.

Driving through the night, Laura remained a crumpled ball on the backseat as Amy watched on. By nightfall they had reached the outskirts of Melbourne and delivered a tear streaked Laura to the house that belonged to her mother, confident in the knowledge no one could care for her the way her mother could, someone who had been wanting her to come home for 8 years.

As Amy helped Laura out of the car she tried not to replay the events of the past week in her head. She eased Laura out of the back seat and jogged her up the walk. As she rang the door bell in the 6pm dusk Laura turned suddenly to Amy, making eye contact with her for the first time since leaving the beach. "They've killed my Dylan," she wept as they stood on the doorstep. "They're not going to get away with it." And with that the door opened, a stunned woman with greying hair stood there, and Amy turned a sobbing Laura over to her mother.

Without saying another word Amy walked back to Evan's truck where he waited patiently for her in the drivers seat. Laura's words echoed in her head repeatedly. They held a different meaning though to the promises that 'they're not going to get away with it' from victims of crime and bad luck usually held. Amy knew Laura was going to bring Barron down herself, and, getting back into the car and securing her seatbelt tightly around her body as Evan pulled back onto the quiet suburban street, Amy felt an enormous sense of relief. Finally, she thought. Something **I** won't have to do.

Her desire for revenge for Ned's death and the way Barron and almost the whole of Melbourne Homicide had created a dark, black bent shadow over the Victoria Police was beginning to fade. She couldn't handle any more. The only way it would be stopped would be if someone else did it.

And she knew Laura was going to do that.

As they drove back to Evan's flat he turned expectantly towards her. "What are we going to do now?" he asked her simply.

"I'm going to get out of here before they get me too." Amy's response was quick and sure. Every copper knew the job came with risks, but when the crunch came this big, one longed so badly for a normal life of nine to five.

Evan seemed to understand as quickly and surely as her answer to his question had come. He pulled at the hand break as they rumbled into a parking spot behind his flat. "Well then, your knight in shining armour awaits…" he gestured towards the door to the flat where Alex leant against the doorframe, a ripple of concern spilling across his face.

Amy looked through the passenger window and over at Alex, a smile at last creeping back into her features. She suddenly remembered everything she had loved about him. She unfolded her limbs and got out of the car. Walking towards Alex, the sense of relief she had felt earlier only increased and she fell into his waiting arms and he squeezed her tight, placing a kiss on the top of her head as she cried her worries into his chest in the evening moonlight.

Laura's life remained in danger over the next two days as the trio of coppers continued to lay low, eager to get out of Melbourne but not sure how. They heard nothing of Laura as she recooperated at her mothers house, situated in a suburb 2 hours out of Melbourne and almost safe. Nothing was ever completely safe.

By Sunday Amy was restless. Her arm was healing torturously slowly and fears still nagged at her. She hadn't seen daylight since the day they had found Dylan's body on the beach. She was sick of hiding out and as she sent Alex out to get the paper on Monday morning, her head hurt with all the escape routes she tried to plan.

"Amy!" Alex came running back inside moments later, the Herald Sun in his hand, a shocked but excited look upon his face. He thrust the paper in front of her as she sat at Evan's breakfast bar, her feet kicking softly against the bench. "Look!"

**Victoria Police the new corruption kings**

The headline screamed its ugly words and only continued in its accompanying article.

_Echoing the massive spread of corruption in the New South Wales police in the 1980's, a lone witness has broken her silence on the corrupt ways of Victorian Police detectives_

Amy gulped in a big rush of air as she put the paper down and looked up at Alex. This was it. She'd done it. Amy knew the media was what bent coppers feared the most, because the power the media held was so widespread and impacting. Once the media had ahold, corruption could no longer go unnoticed. No longer could a blind eye be turned. No longer could the devious ways of Barron Lloyd go ignored. Laura had done it. Amy knew it was her the moment she saw the headline. In revealing what went on in the Melbourne underworld, Laurahad broken the criminal code of silence, which she herself had been apart of for so long, but it meant a pleasing beginning for the new life she wanted to make for herself. It also meant Amy was in considerably less danger than she had been just the previous day.

She leant her elbows on the bench and put her head in her hands again, only this time not in anguish. Alex pulled her into a hug and felt her breathing easily again into his shoulder. "Take me away from here Alex," she whispered as they pulled apart and rested with their foreheads touching. He stroked her cheek and smiled. "Just take me away."

Her career not over, just on hold for the time being, she and Alex made a hasty retreat interstate until a Royal Commission began into the practises of the Victoria Police. Laura became the new pin up girl for anti corruption and while she made appearances on television and gave newspaper interviews, and even wrote a book, she remained in witness protection for longer than anyone cared to recall, because in the underworld she had been officially branded an informant. And nobody on the street liked an informant. But Amy could do nothing about it. Like Laura had said that day in the motel room on St Kilda Road, she had chosen this life. She was never meant for anything else.


End file.
